


Ever After

by eviscreate



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: M/M, Post-Lost Light 25, Set in the canon "good" end universe, Tactile Sexual Interfacing, Transformers Plug and Play Sexual Interfacing, but probably mostly talking, idk how to tag!, megarod being Soft, smut with feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:40:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25771510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eviscreate/pseuds/eviscreate
Summary: Megatron's unsure if he deserves all that he has; Rodimus wants to show him that he does.
Relationships: Megatron/Rodimus | Rodimus Prime
Comments: 6
Kudos: 44





	Ever After

**Author's Note:**

> Ty to Blitz for beta-ing some of this and listening to me ramble about it

“When was the last time you interfaced?”

“Excuse me?”

The question was asked more quietly than one would have thought possible for Rodimus, but that didn’t make it any less jarring. Usually, if Rodimus approached Megatron while he was on duty, it’d be to pick a petty fight, or suggest a change to their course, or just whine about being bored. This, while not _entirely_ surprising, was new.

“I’m serious Megs. Running a campaign of terror across the universe and all, I imagine you were a pretty busy guy.” Rodimus sat himself on the arm of the captain’s chair. “So? How long’s it been? A thousand years? Two?” He kicked his legs out in a manner more befitting a child than the captain of a ship.

Megatron considered restraining his sigh, but let it out upon the realization that no one would find anything odd about Rodimus’ actions irritating him to that point. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business. Nor is it an appropriate question to be asking someone who’s working, in a room full of other people,” he said while pointedly avoiding looking directly at the other bot.

Rodimus tapped the side of Megatron’s helm. Repeatedly. Megatron sighed again.

He deigned to turn his head and look at the menace perched next to him. “What do you want, Rodimus?” 

“Swing by my habsuite later?”

Megatron looked at him, unimpressed. “I would have expected you to have better pickup lines than anything you’ve been saying here,” he gave in a monotone.

Rodimus smiled lightly and spoke with a smirk in his voice, “Oh? You’ve thought about that, I suppose?” When Megatron continued to stare blankly, his tone lowered a bit and he continued, “Seriously, though. It doesn’t have to be a thing if you don’t want it to, just—” he hesitated a moment, sounding a bit unsure. “You’ve seemed… I dunno, stressed. Tense? At first, when we came to this universe, you seemed so much more relaxed. I dunno if something’s up or what but it’s weird seeing you walking around like a mech on death row again. We can just talk. Or watch a movie, or something. Netflix and chill.”

Megatron was looking at his co-captain with a schooled expression until his last sentence caused him to frown and raise an optical ridge. “…What?”

“Sorry. Not that last thing. Human expression. Ignore that bit.” His fingers drummed a rhythm on the chair’s arm next to him. “Anyway. Yeah. I’ll be talking to Perceptor and Brainstorm for a bit but after that I’ll be in my hab for a while, if you wanna swing by.” He pushed off from the chair and walked away, cutting the conversation short and giving Megatron a mock salute as he left.

…Well. That was quite a 180 in confidence, but Megatron, despite his better efforts, couldn’t help but consider what Rodimus had said. He had a point; while starting life over in a new universe, one where his actions hadn’t caused the entire universe pain, had seemed ideal—still did—he had been spending a lot of time thinking about whether or not he deserved this chance. He knew that he wasn’t the only bot on this ship with regrets; all Rodimus may have done on or off the Lost Light would pale in comparison to a single one of Megatron’s own misdeeds, but Megatron was fully aware of the other bot’s own self-doubt. What he had not been aware of was the fact that his own conflict was so visible to other mechs.

Regardless of what the younger mech’s intentions may be, he supposed it couldn’t actively hurt to take Rodimus up on his offer.

\--------------------

Rodimus startled at a knock on his door, jumping a bit before reaching forwards to turn the video he was watching off. Or, rather, the video he had playing while he was distractedly picking at a bit of chipped paint on his desk. “S’open,” he called out as he dusted the paint flakes to the floor.

The door slid open, Megatron entering and looking towards Rodimus. The door closed itself behind him. Rodimus didn’t stand to meet him, instead leaning back in his chair and putting one pede on the edge of his desk. “Honestly, I’m kind of surprised you’re here,” he said.

“You’re the one who wanted me to come,” Megatron replied. He made his way to a couch against the wall and sat down, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Though that was a pretty poor attempt at getting me into your berth.”

Rodimus’ reply of “But you came, didn’t you?” didn’t come out sounding quite as teasing as he had wanted it to. 

There was silence for a moment.

“…About earlier, I’m sorry if I—”

“Three million years.”

“…What?”

“You asked when the last time I interfaced was. It’s been three million years.”

Rodimus stared at him, blinking. “…What?”

Megatron looked unimpressed. “I can’t imagine this is all that surprising. As you said, I was busy. And I was the leader of an entire army—one in which my own direct underlings plotted to overthrow me on the regular. I wasn’t going to risk making some stupid mistake that could be used against me just for momentary pleasure.”

Rodimus’ pede left the desk and hit the ground. “Yeah, I mean, yeah. Of course.” He picked up a pen and started twirling it around in his fingers. “I just. I dunno, expected otherwise, but that makes sense.”

The silence returned, interrupted by the tink tink of the pen hitting Rodimus’ digits.

“…You’re right,” Megatron spoke, breaking both the quiet of the room and the noise of the pen.

Rodimus tilted his head towards where Megatron was seated. “Hm?”

“I have been… tense.” He paused to shift slightly, taking notice of something underneath him—he was sitting on a datapad. A datapad with important paperwork on it. On the couch. He began to give Rodimus an exasperated look, but ultimately decided it could wait and stood to bring the datapad to the desk. He still gave Rodimus a Look as he placed the pad next to a messy stack of several others, though.

Megatron did not return to his seat on the couch. He levelled Rodimus with a stare for a moment—Rodimus shifted in his chair to be sitting normally and held his gaze, and Megatron continued. “…I know that I am welcome on this ship now, and don’t think for a moment that I don’t hold bounds of appreciation for that fact, as well as for the mechs on board with me.” He was straightening out the datapads on Rodimus’ desk as he spoke. “But I still wonder if I should be here.”

Rodimus cocked his head. “If you should be here? Of course you should be here—none of us would be here at all if not for you, Megs.”

His hand stilled, resting on the edge of the desk. “Just because you say you want me here doesn’t mean I deserve this. I’m happy with it, of course—but do I deserve that? In our old universe, another version of me is either dead or isolated for life right now. And he deserves worse. So what makes me deserve this chance?”

By the time he was done speaking, Rodimus was standing next to him. The smaller bot placed one hand on Megatron’s arm. “Megs.” Megatron hadn’t realized he was staring at his own hand until his gaze moved back to Rodimus. Tired optics met tender ones. “You might feel differently, but I think you deserve this. You’ve helped people. You want to keep helping people. You can’t right the wrongs you’ve committed in the past, but you can bring good to the future. I know you know that.

“Since you got back from the functionist universe, you’ve pretty much only thought about other people. I’m willing to bet it was the same all those years you were there, too. You deserve a chance to make some amends. And you deserve to let yourself relax, too.” His thumb rubbed small circles into the inside of Megatron’s arm.

Megatron opened his mouth to respond, but Rodimus spoke again before he could. “…Seriously, though? Three million?” 

A blink, a beat of thought, and a tired smile that quickly melted into an amused one. “Yes, Rodimus. Three million years. Why, how long has it been for you?”

Rodimus retracted his hand from Megatron’s arm. “Well that’s none of your business,” he replied.

The hand was caught by Megatron’s own. A chuckle, then, “Perhaps this invitation wasn’t just for my sake, hmm?”

A small pout made its way to Rodimus’ lips. “I mean, it was mostly for you. Can’t a guy have a little bit of an ulterior motive and still be concerned for his friend?” A brush from Megatron’s thumb and a large hand cupping his face were likely intended to erase the pout, but did not.

“…Your friend, hm?”

The pout left then. Rodimus looked down in thought a moment, but elected to lean his head into the hand resting on it instead of speaking. Megatron tilted Rodimus’ chin up, asking an unspoken question; their optics shuttered closed, their lips met.

By the time they separated, Rodimus’ cooling fans had begun whirring audibly. “Time to break your three-million-year streak,” he said, attempting a smirk that instead wound up a soft smile. He used the hand Megatron was still holding to guide him towards the berth.

Megatron allowed Rodimus’ hand to slip from his own as the orange mech jumped onto his berth in a way that was not at all seductive. A noiseless laugh escaped Megatron as he sat down next to him. Rodimus softly kicked at Megatron’s legs as he shifted them onto the berth.

Aside from the motion of Rodimus’ pede tapping against Megatron’s leg, neither bot moved. Rodimus smacked his lips and tucked his leg next to his own body. “Kinda figured you’d be more eager here, Megs,” he joked, changing his mind and shifting his leg in front of him again.

“I don’t want to do anything without knowing you’re ready,” Megatron replied. He reached out a hand and ran it down Rodimus’ side, fingers tracing a path along transformation seams.

Rodimus leaned into his touch. “I’m the one who invited you here, aren’t I?” His arm wrapped around Megatron’s, rubbing a pattern on the cooler metal as he pushed himself forwards. “I hope you don’t really think I’d change my mind as soon as I actually got you into my berth.”

Megatron chuckled as his other hand reached forward to run along Rodimus’ thigh. “No, I suppose you’ve never been one to back down from a challenge.” One finger dipped lightly into a seam, causing Rodimus to shudder and lean farther into his touch.

“Thinking highly of ourselves all of a sudden, are we?” Rodimus brought his hands higher, fingers leaving a trail of heat along Megatron’s body. “Glad to know my—” Megatron curled his fingers under Rodimus’ plating in a way that made his vents stutter, “ _mm,_ ok, do that again please—glad to know my little pep talk worked.”

Megatron’s vents hitched as he spoke. “Well, who wouldn’t be overjoyed to know the great Rodimus thought so highly of them.”

“Stop being rude and open your panel.”

He continued to be rude, rubbing a thumb tenderly on the panel he had found on Rodimus’ side instead of opening his own. Rodimus glared at him, but its effect was lessened by how brightly his optics were glowing with charge. He slid the panel back, and Megatron’s thumb immediately brushed against the tip of his jack. “Hmm.”

Rodimus looked from Megatron’s face to his own array and back. “What? What you see is what you got. And it’s pretty good, if I do say so myself.”

Megatron wasn’t sure if he wanted to deadpan or laugh. “No, it’s not that. Your array is fine. Just that I’ve finally found a way to get you to actually do what you’re told. A shame it’s not a tactic that can be deployed during working hours,” he said, fingers teasing the area around Rodimus’ port.

Rodimus huffed. “’M not sure if I should be more offended by you thinking of work while you’re in my berth, or by you saying my array is ‘fine.’ It is fantastic, thank you very much.” The words came out more softly than usual, distracted by the feeling of Megatron’s hands. “Are you gonna open up or not?”

“Say please.”

“…”

Megatron momentarily increased the pressure of his hands, running two fingers down a transformation seam in a way that made Rodimus squirm.

“I hate you sometimes, you know that?”

“Understandable.” But there was a soft smile on Megatron’s face as he relented and gave Rodimus the access he had been asking for.

Rodimus’ hand quickly found its target, finger circling Megatron’s jack as he looked up at him. Megatron nodded, and Rodimus unspooled it. Megatron raised a hand to stroke Rodimus’ spoiler as his plug was connected; the orange mech whined at the combined charge and contact. 

Megatron’s hand moved from spoiler to nape, gently teasing the cabling. Rodimus gasped, optics flickering as he tilted his head sideways. Taking the opportunity, Megatron leaned forward and nibbled on the wires of his neck; Rodimus shuttered his optics and vented heavily. He worried his lower lip as Megatron sent a pulse of adoration through their connection.

“Mmm, lemme plug in?” His voice was laced with a thin layer of static as his digits traced patterns on Megatron’s body. Mouth still on Rodimus’ neck, Megatron took Rodimus’ hands in his own, wrapping his fingers around one and guiding the other to his interface array.

Megatron pulled back when the circuit was closed, optics brightening with charge and widening in surprise. When he had sent his own feelings over their connection, he hadn’t expected them to be so wholly reciprocated—but what Rodimus was sending him told him that they very much were. Rodimus smiled up at him warmly, squeezing his hand.

For the first time since they started, they kissed again. Their second kiss was more passionate than the first, fueled by emotion and steadily building charge. Their free hands danced along each other’s frames as expressions of their feelings more meaningful than could be conveyed with words passed between them. 

“Megatron…” Rodimus let out an affectionate moan of his partner’s name. Megatron didn’t speak, shuttering his optics and pulling the smaller mech closer to him. His cooling fans whirred, responding both to the charge in his own frame and the warmer body pressed against his.

Rodimus’ vents hitched as Megatron dug into a seam on his back. The motion pushed him into overload, his optics overbright and his hand tightly gripping Megatron’s. The feedback quickly brought Megatron into overload as well, fans stuttering as the charge racked through his frame.

The two remained in each other’s arms as they rode out their overloads. Rodimus slid forward to rest his body limply on Megatron as he cycled in cool air and tried to steady his venting.

Megatron recovered first; he carefully unplugged them both, returning the wires to their housing. The noise of their panels transforming back into place was softly audible over their steadily quieting fans.

Rodimus shoved Megatron weakly, asking him to lay down. He complied, taking the sleepy mech with him in his arms.

“…Still think you don’t deserve this?” Rodimus lifted his head, placing his chin on Megatron’s chassis to look him in the optic.

Megatron stroked a hand along Rodimus’ helm. “You may have convinced me. I’m still not sure I deserve you, though.”

“Was that a compliment or an insult?” 

“Hm. Up to you,” Megatron replied, a soft smile resting on his face.

Rodimus huffed in annoyance, though it sounded more like a tired sigh. “Whatever. I’m gonna recharge.” The end of the sentence turned into a mumble as he buried his face onto Megatron’s frame once more. 

“Do you want me to go back to my own habsuite?” Megatron shifted to look down at Rodimus. The movement was responded to with a series of taps on his shoulder in lieu of pushing him back down.

“Mm. Stay.” The words were softened by sleepiness, coming from a bot on the edge of falling into recharge.

Resting his helm back on the berth, Megatron offlined his optics. He ran a hand down Rodimus’ back affectionately, listening to his venting slow.

Really, he still wasn’t sure he deserved to be here. Rodimus had certainly shown over their connection that he believed so, but the doubt would likely always linger in Megatron’s processor. But the doubt wasn’t what mattered. He was here now, and he would take full advantage of that fact to enjoy his new life and put as much good into this universe as he could. He wanted to be here, and he had mechs who wanted him here, and that was what mattered.

Satisfied, he slipped easily into recharge.


End file.
